


Seeing Red

by Faylette



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crushes, Fantasizing, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Near Future, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 13:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faylette/pseuds/Faylette
Summary: Yuri's been friends with Otabek, and just friends, for a few years now, and he's having a pretty hard time keeping him out of his mind. He has an even harder time when he notices that Otabek's wearing pretty panties.A PWP tale of crushing, lusting, and lingerie fantasies.





	Seeing Red

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted to write and post something, so I wandered into the Yuri!!! on Ice Kink Meme, found something that interested me (yoikinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/158048698552/otabekyuri-nsfw-lingerie), and just wrote it. And here it is. Enjoy. I know I did.

Yuri hadn’t meant to see it, really. He can’t help that on Otabek’s outfit, all black and white and muted tones, red sticks out. It sticks out even more so when it’s literally sticking out of Otabek’s waistband as he checks something out on his bike, bending over just enough for his jacket to sneak up and his pants to sneak down, revealing something lacy and sheer and so, so red.

Panties. His best friend (and huge secret crush) is wearing panties.

And even when Yuri whips his head down to look at his shoes, very intently trying to focus on those shoes and nothing else, he just can’t. Red lace remains in his vision nonetheless, behind his eyes, threaded into his brain, red, red, redder than red.

He tries to swallow the dry lump in his throat, but nothing changes.

“Okay, let’s go.”

“Huh?” Yuri blurts out, very much the kid in class caught daydreaming, and looks up.

Otabek’s there (not that Yuri was expecting anyone else), facing him and standing up straight, just in his black leather jacket, white v-neck tee, dark blue jeans, and scuffed black boots, without a trace of even the most subdued shade of red.

“The bike’s fine,” says Otabek, picking up a helmet and holding it out for Yuri to take. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s red—rad!” Yuri quickly chokes out. “Yeah, everything’s rad.” He grabs the helmet, strapping it on as he hops onto the back of the bike, hoping to move things along fast enough so that maybe Otabek won’t have time to think about who the hell says rad anymore.

During the scenic ride down the coast, a well-deserved post-competition excursion, with the salty scent wafting from a sea glittering bright beneath the midday sun, Yuri wonders if he saw what he saw — like actually saw it, with his eyes, and not just part of his head gone haywire with imagination. Not being one prone to hallucinations, he’s fairly, though still not entirely sure, that the man right in front of him, close enough to touch, close enough to see the tiny beads of sweat on his nape from the heat, is wearing pretty lingerie.

Well, whether he imagined it or not, one thing is for certain.

It’s fucking hot as hell.

 

It was an ordeal, but Yuri made it through the bike ride without much incident. Although, when the thought of what Otabek had underneath his clothes periodically and often forcefully popped back into Yuri’s mind, he had to will away several emergent and insistent erections, a feat accomplished by either letting himself be taken away by the breathtaking views along their trip or, when that failed, picturing Yakov and Ms. Baranovskaya in compromising situations. He thought eventually his brain would start to cooperate with the repeated threat of that image, but no dice — that one hint of red lace, in less than the span of an afternoon, had transformed from a curiosity into an obsession.

Hence why now, a week later and back in the privacy of his bedroom, he has his pants around his ankles and his hand around his dick and his head full of Otabek Altin and pretty lingerie, for at least the tenth time since returning home. The sound of exaggerated grunts and dirty talk drones out of his phone’s speakers, a quickly discarded attempt at reconditioning himself into being turned on by something else, so very much in the background for him that it might as well be someone blaring it from a different apartment. What use does he have for porn when he has the seed for the most arousing scenes planted between his ears, ready to be regrown over and over again?

Because all he Yuri saw was an inch, if that, of gauzy red fabric, his brain has all the freedom in the world to fill in the blanks, from superbly revealing thongs to much more concealing but still lacy briefs, all the same shade of red, all wonderfully appealing on what Yuri can too clearly recall of Otabek’s body when they’ve gone to the beach. Sometimes his mind goes beyond a basic extrapolation, adding, without even much of a conscious choice, patterned stockings and garters, silky corsets and gloves, any article of lingerie his erotic imagination can create in the blink of the eye — but they all always remain an embellishment of those red, barely but just enough-seen panties. Fantastical additions to the real.

Right now, Yuri’s brain is swimming in the image of Otabek in that skimpy kind of panties that leave the underside of each cheek bare, and one of Otabek’s black leather jackets (Yuri’s favourite one). Nothing else. Yuri pumps himself harder, pre-cum overflowing down to his shaft.

In his fantasies, Otabek never appears embarrassed or timid, like he’s been forced into these delicate, scanty things and would just rather be out of them, no. He still has that same natural aura of boldness and strength that always radiates from him, as he pulls off a routine on the ice, works up the crowd in the club, shows up out of nowhere on his bike to rescue Yuri from his Angels. He’s the same man, just confidently decked out in ladies’ underthings.Yuri can’t imagine him any other way.

He thinks back to the actual moment he saw those panties and wonders — could Otabek have bent over like that on purpose? Otabek knew Yuri was right behind him, and what was he even looking at, really, to make sure the bike was okay? Does he always wear those sorts of things? Was it just that day? Was it just for Yuri? The thought, just the tiny possibility that Otabek meant for him to get that glimpse of lingerie, that maybe this was the way he wanted to let Yuri know he was interested in him, makes an already painfully hard Yuri as hard as diamonds in his grip.

And, within in the boundaries of his own mind, he can do more than look at Otabek — a freedom that his mind seems overwhelmed by. His fantasy races through all the possibilities, sometimes with such a franticness that he doesn’t know what he wants to do most with this beautiful man in his beautiful lingerie: jerk him off, get jerked off, blow him, get blown, kiss him all over his body, feel his kisses all over his own body, fuck, be fucked, admire, be admired.

The kaleidoscope settles, but remains far from still, lingering on a fantasy of that leather and lace-clad Otabek straddled on Yuri’s lap, arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder, hips moving to rub his hard cock, still covered in soft, strained fabric, against Yuri’s (what would it feel like, Yuri wants so badly to know). When Yuri’s close, in reality and fantasy, Otabek raises his lips to his ear, moaning with the same shamelessness of his hungry rutting. And Yuri fucking swears he can actually hear that moan in his ear right as he pumps himself to climax.

Granted, it’s more likely it’s from the porn he still has playing on his phone, but Yuri’s already grunting breathily and splattering watery warmth onto his stomach, with neither the capacity nor the inclination to think beyond how astoundingly hot it sounded in his head. When his breath grows a bit steadier and his thoughts grow a bit clearer, he puts his clean hand over his face and groans. That’s one more time for the pretty embarrassing count that he’s masturbated to his best friend/crush who maybe, maybe likes him back but also probably has mixed (to be generous) feelings about what Yuri’s doing and how much he’s doing it. With each time he gives in, he knows he’s just making things more awkward and more difficult for whenever he tells Otabek how he feels. If he  _ ever _ tells Otabek how he feels.

Yuri has loads of reasons to want Otabek as a boyfriend. He’s a good friend. Yuri likes hanging out with him. His texts and snaps make him smile. He’s incredible on the ice. He listens when Yuri needs to bitch. He drives a motorcycle and DJs (so fucking cool). He’s absurdly hot. He has so many pros, and now there’s one more. It’s not the only reason, hell no, but, in a weird kind of way, it might be just enough of a push for Yuri to suck it up and ask him out on a date already.

Yuri wants to see what else Otabek has in his underwear drawer.


End file.
